


Strik Yu Daun Gon Yu Heda

by Combatboots



Series: Clexa Love Week [1]
Category: The 100
Genre: Clarke the tease, Edging, F/F, Fingering, Heda Lexa, No Plot, Oral, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Squirting, Top Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Combatboots/pseuds/Combatboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is already struggling to pay attention during a particularly dull meeting. So when she catches Clarke wearing one of her favorite tops, far too tight and showing off way too much cleavage on the Skaikru Ambassador, the Commander decides that she has no option but to halt the meeting in favor of a private lesson to teach Clarke how to take orders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strik Yu Daun Gon Yu Heda

**Author's Note:**

> Authored by 'COMBAT'  
> Beetles are totally a plot :P

Strik Yu Daun Gon Yu Heda

The throne room is stifling, hot, full of stagnant air and too many bodies. One of the Ambassadors of the Coalition is rambling on about farming techniques and harvest times and Lexa just cannot find it within herself to pay attention. Sure, farming is important and good harvests are always welcome, but the topic is well beyond her realm of expertise.

Lexa keeps her face passive as she glances around the room, pride swelling in her chest as she takes in her Coalition, the clans working together. Her eyes fall on her blonde sky girl, and Lexa’s lips curl ever so slightly, in a tiny, almost imperceptible smile. She lets her eyes roam over Clarke’s face, catching her eyes. Clarke gives her a grin in return, knowing she’d caught Lexa’s attention. Lexa lets her eyes wander, down Clarke’s face, over her lips and adorable chin dimple, down her neck, to the v of Clarke’s t-shirt.

Except, wait. That isn’t Clarke’s shirt the Skairkru Ambassador is wearing. It’s Lexa’s. Lexa closes her eyes to lessen her surprise and annoyance at seeing Clarke in her shirt. They had talked about this. Lexa had asked Clarke not to wear her shirts because her breasts were considerably bigger, and Lexa was tired of the garments being stretched out around the top so that once Clarke had borrowed them, they were all but claimed after that. Lexa opens her eyes and raises an eyebrow at Clarke, silently communicating her displeasure. The shirt is one of Lexa’s favorites; grey and soft and well worn in all the right places.

Clarke smirks and shakes her head. She knows Lexa hates it when she wears her clothes, but Clarke also knew that getting Lexa’s forgiveness is easier than doing her own laundry, so she’d taken a chance and worn the pilfered shirt. It’s soft and smells like Lexa, and the technically too small fit makes her tits look great and she knows it. Clarke takes her left hand from underneath her chin, where she’d been leaning on it, desperately trying to look as though she was paying attention, and brings her index finger down her neck, across her chest, and to the the v-neck of the shirt. To other prying eyes it might look like she’s tending to an itch. But she knows Lexa knows her better than that. Clarke sees Lexa’s eyes go wide at her teasing and almost laughs out loud. It’s almost too easy. After a surreptitious glance around the room to make sure she’s clear, Clarke hooks her finger in the v-neck and tugs, exposing more cleavage than the already dangerous amount displayed.

Lexa closes her eyes again and forces her face to remain expressionless. Clarke Griffin kom Skaikru is going to drive her insane. She forces herself to pay attention to the meeting, only to find, to her dismay, that the Yujleda Ambassador has moved on to talking about some kind of beetle infestation that’s damaging the tomatoes on the southern-most farms.. 

Lexa is wracking her brain to try and come up with a solution to the beetle issue. She wonders briefly, and almost seriously, if Raven could blow them up, when Clarke stands from her chair.

Clarke saunters over to the table where the Yujleda Ambassador is mulling over the maps of farmland. Lexa’s eyes stalk her lover as she moves. Clarke practically struts, hips swaying, shirt riding up because it’s too small, and Lexa catches a glimpse of the soft, white skin of Clarke’s tummy and hips and swallows hard.

When Clarke reaches the table she doesn’t sit, oh no, not Clarke. She pushes her hair over one shoulder, exposing her neck, and leans over the maps and papers strewn about the table. She leans, and she is leaning right in front of Lexa, and she knows exactly what she is doing. 

“You know, we didn’t have beetles on the Ark, but I bet some people from farm station could help you out with this. Maybe find a way to get rid of the beetles, or if needs be use soil testing to identify new beetle free farmland?” Clarke looks up at Lexa as she finishes talking, hooded eyes and a hint of a smile. “What do you think Heda?”

Lexa snaps her eyes away from Clarke’s chest so fast she fears others might have noticed. 

“I think Klark kom Skaikru has a valid point. Bandrona, send your best to the Yujleda farms as quickly as possible”. 

Clarke nods, knowing she is getting to Lexa, seeing the small cracks in her Heda demeanor. “Sha Heda, right away” comes Clarke’s reply. Feeling brazen, she stands back from the table and stretches her arms up over her head, causing her shirt, no Lexa’s shirt, that Clarke stole, to ride up even further.

With each inch of skin that revealed to her, Lexa can feel her desire pool even more in between her thighs, starting to soak her underwear. Lexa is losing her patience. Between Clarke being Clarke, the heat of the room, the boring beetle discourse, Lexa is quite done with this meeting.

“Good, beetle crisis averted. This meeting is adjourned,” comes Lexa’s low voice. She raises her hands to the air, letting go of the death grip on her throne’s armrests. She hadn’t even realised she had been holding on so tightly “You are all dismissed. Except you, Skaikru Bandrona. I need a word in private.”

Lexa watches as the other Ambassadors and the guards shuffle out of the room, noticing the sympathetic looks given to Clarke by the others. They think that the sky girl has angered their Heda. They have no idea how right they are.

Clarke just stands there, smug smile across her face as the others leave the room. That smile on anyone else would be infuriating for Lexa. On Clarke, however, it is tantalizing. 

Clarke waits for the room to clear before speaking. “What’s up Lex?” she asks casually, as if she knows nothing at all of what could possibly be amiss. Clarke finds herself biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning too hard.

Lexa manages to not roll her eyes at Clarke, but she wants to. “That’s Heda to you. And you know ‘what is up’”, comes Lexa’s terse reply, her voice a dangerous whisper.

Clarke looks up at Lexa draped on her throne, through long eyelashes, feigning innocence, “Have I offended you Commander?”.

“You are wearing my shirt. What have I said about wearing my things Ambassador?”

Shivering slightly at Lexa’s use of her title, Clarke looks down at her chest, then back up to Lexa, “I swear, I thought this one was mine. It looks really similar---”

“On your knees Ambassador. Now.” Lexa interrupts, not letting Clarke finish her excuse.

Clarke looks like she’s going to protest, like she’s going to refuse her Heda’s command. Lexa raises an eyebrow and tilts her chin up, a silent dare for Clarke to disobey her. Clarke relents and drops obediently to her knees. Satisfied, Lexa remains sitting on her throne. She brings one foot up, crossing her legs, long fingers working the laces on her boots loose. Lexa is glad that she opted to wear them today and she takes her sweet time at the task. She pulls off the boot, then the sock. She repeats the same action with her other foot, until she is barefoot and proud. 

Clarke is jittery with anticipation, not knowing what could possibly happen next. She knows that Lexa is being deliberately slow, making Clarke wait, the hard tile floor getting more and more uncomfortable to kneel on each moment that passes. 

At last Lexa stands from her throne and stalks her way toward Clarke, taking off her jacket, her thigh dagger, unbuttoning her pants as she goes. She stops directly in front of Clarke, waiting, watching Clarke swallow hard in anticipation. Lexa pushes her pants and shorts down around her ankles, mound right in front of Clarke’s nose. Lexa is wet, and she knows Clarke can smell it. She smirks when Clarke takes a deep inhale and closes her eyes, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips.

“You must be punished for taking my things, you realize that don’t you? Do you see what you’ve done to me?” Lexa hisses, waiting for Clarke’s acknowledgement. 

Clarke opens her eyes and nods eagerly, hypnotized by wet brown curls and the scent of Lexa’s arousal. Clarke wants nothing more than for Lexa to be spread before her, but for now wet curls will have to do. 

Lexa steps out of her pants and kicks them off behind her. She bends at the waist so she is even with Clarke's left ear, her right hand tangling in Clarke's blonde curls, “You're not getting away with this poor behaviour so easily Ambassador,” Lexa’s whisper is hot and wet on Clarke's ear. It makes Clarke visibly shudder

Lexa pulls Clarke up by her hair, straightening as she does so. The Commander drags her Ambassador back up the short steps to her throne, never easing her grip on Clarke's hair. Clarke lets out a small hiss of pain, but follows Lexa obediently, not a protest to be heard. 

Lexa sits on her throne, back straight and head held high, finally releasing her hold on Clarke's hair.

“Kneel,” Lexa demands in a voice that is severe enough to cause Clarke to fall to her knees immediately. 

Lexa opens her legs for Clarke, finally, now that she is comfortable back on her throne, Clarke's face even with her pussy, both of them taut with anticipation. 

Lexa is soaking wet, and she knows it. She knows she must be practically dripping, all pink and shiny, neat lips; proud clit eager to be touched. 

“Hands behind your back Ambassador,” Lexa murmurs, smirking as Clarke instantly clasps her hands behind her, the naughty thing eager for her punishment. “Good girl, you can follow directions. Now. Serve your commander,” Lexa decrees, grabbing the back of Clarke's head and bringing her to her drenched pussy. 

Clarke meets Lexa with a flat tongue, licking her from bottom to top, greedily drinking Lexa's arousal. She wraps her lips around Lexa’s swollen clit, and sucks hard, just shy of painful, exactly how her Commander likes it. Lexa bucks her hips against Clarke's tongue, relieved at finally finding friction. Lexa needs to come now. She needed to come ages ago, now she is desperate to orgasm. 

Lexa pulls Clarke's face impossibly closer, rolling her hips and grinding against Clarke's tongue with little regard for anything other than her own need. Her hands find her own breasts through her shirt, pinching and rolling already hard nipples, the roughness of the fabric only adding to the sensation. Lexa’s orgasm catches her by surprise, fast and hard, and she comes with a grunt of satisfaction on Clarke's face. Her hands find the armrests of her throne and hold on tight. Clarke is coaxing her through it perfectly, flicking her tongue, but slowing down all the same. Then, Clarke tries to lift her head away.

Lexa snakes a hand back to Clarke's head and holds her in place. “Oh no Ambassador, I am not nearly done with you. I am not yet satisfied you've learned your lesson.”

Clarke looks up at Lexa with wide blue eyes, lips and tongue buried between Lexa's thighs. Lexa releases Clarke's head, gives her room to catch her breath. Lexa smirks at the sight of Clarke, chin wet and shiny, lips swollen. 

“You will make me come again. You will prove to me that you can take orders. Now, on your feet,” is Lexa’s next proclamation.

Once Clarke is stood, she beckons Clarke closer, until she is standing in between Lexa's legs, her own legs flush with the seat of Lexa’s throne. Lexa reaches up and clasps a hand on the back of Clarke's neck, pulls her down for a kiss. It is wet and messy, and Lexa savors the taste of herself on Clarke's lips, licking them clean with her tongue, sucking them into her mouth. 

Clarke moans into the kiss and Lexa pulls away, a chuckle falling from her lips. “No Clarke, this is my time. You will get yours when you are through with me, and not a moment before. Is that understood?”

Clarke nods furiously, knowing better than to disobey her Heda. Her entire body is alight with arousal, but she knows that she must wait. It’s all part of the Commander’s game.

“So obedient, such a good girl,” Lexa purrs. She grabs Clarke’s face and looks directly into those pretty blue eyes, “Now, fuck me Clarke.”

Clarke knows that when Lexa demands to be fucked that's exactly what she means. Clarke stands up straight and plunges two fingers into Lexa, pushing them deep, reveling in the wet heat of Lexa’s pussy. Clarke keeps her fingers still, intending to let Lexa get used to the feeling of them inside her. 

“What are you waiting for Clarke? I told you to fuck me. So. Fuck. Me. Now.” Lexa growls, grabbing Clarke's wrist and maneuvering her fingers inside her. Clarke catches on rather quickly, sliding her fingers almost completely out of Lexa before thrusting them back in, curling them firmly against the spongy front wall of Lexa’s pussy. She repeats the action, again and again, wasting no time in picking up to a furious speed. The awkwardness of the leaning position Lexa has ordered her to take does nothing to disway Clarke’s efforts.

Lexa throws her head back, immersed in the feeling of being fucked hard, dizzy at the way Clarke's fingers curl inside her. “Sha, Ambassador. Like that,” Lexa grunts, hands on her own tits over her shirt again, pinching at her nipples through the fabric. Clarke is fucking her so roughly, she's bouncing in her throne, each thrust of Clarke's causing Lexa to slide further down the seat. Lexa tilts her head up to look into Clarke's eyes, “You're doing so good. I need more Clarke, more, make me come.”

Clarke adds another finger to the two inside Lexa, slipping in easily thanks to the slickness already there. She never stops her thrusting, and makes sure that the heel of her hand hits Lexa’s clit each time, curling her fingers in a way that she knows Lexa loves. 

Clarke knows exactly what Lexa is after. She plunges her fingers in all the way to the knuckle and keeps them buried like that. Now, her fingers curl and uncurl furiously inside Lexa, against Lexa’s g-spot. A near constant, hard pressure on the most sensitive area inside Lexa’s pussy. Lexa’s constant gasps of pleasure louden just slightly to quiet, beautiful moans and Clarke knows that she is doing well. She moves her spare hand, the one that had been gripping onto the ornate back of lexa’s throne to take some of the strain off of her curved back, and moves it instead to join her other between Lexa’s legs. Clarke immediately presses her fingertips to Lexa’s hard clit and circles in time to the curling of the fingers thrust deep inside Lexa.

Lexa is slouched low in her throne, eyes shut in pleasure, grunting in time to Clarke's fingers as they curl against her g-spot. The hard, fast circles Clarke is drawing on her clit make her squirm in delight. She's so close, she just needs to be pushed over that edge and into free fall. She snaps her eyes open, hoping to meet the deep blue of Clarke's eyes. Clarke is too focused elsewhere, however, and Lexa reaches out, grabbing Clarke by the chin, tilting her head up, “Look at me Clarke. Look. At. Me.” Green eyes find blue just as Clarke pauses her circles to capture Lexa’s clit between her thumb and forefinger and it's enough to send Lexa over the edge, the waves of her orgasm hitting her hard and fast. Clarke fucks her through it, only stopping her movements when Lexa pushes her hands away, too sensitive for any more touching. 

Lexa’s thighs are covered by her own arousal, and her legs feel weak and heavy, but she must reward her Ambassador for a job well done. Or maybe, she’ll have just a little more fun first. 

“Very good Ambassador,” comes Lexa’s low voice as she wraps her arms around Clarke, pulling her close in a tight hug. “You deserve to be rewarded, don't you think?”, Lexa asks, and she smiles darkly when she feels Clarke nod against her. Clarke wasn’t supposed to agree so readily. More fun for the Commander it would have to be. Lexa releases her grip on Clarke and pushes her half a foot step back. “You're over-dressed niron, strip.”

Clarke is out of her clothes in record time. Kicking her boots off and across the room, shimmying out of trousers and knickers, toeing off her socks, pulling Lexa’s too small shirt over her head, her bra following quickly behind it. Clarke stands proudly before Lexa, completely naked, soft skin and supple curves on display for her love. Clarke’s nipples are pinky red and hard, she can feel her arousal on her thighs, but she waits for Lexa’s instructions. 

Lexa stares, how can she not? Clarke is perfection and Lexa knows she is lucky to even get to see it, much less touch it. “Such a good girl Clarke. And so beautiful,” Lexa murmurs, rising from her throne, taking Clarke by the hand to the previously abandoned table. Lexa spins Clarke so she is facing the table, and bends her over, so Clarke’s breasts are flush against the smooth wood of the table, Clarke’s ass on full display. Lexa grabs at it, raking her fingernails over the soft white skin. The sensation makes Clarke hiss and she cranes her neck to look back at Lexa, indignation on her face.

Lexa tightens her jaw and sets her shoulders square, “Is there something the matter, Clarke?”

Clarke gulps. “I thought I was getting rewarded,” she mewls out.

“Oh?” Lexa says, eyebrow raised, “And do you presume to tell me that you have the right to demand your reward before your Commander is ready to give it, Ambassador?” 

Lexa pulls her right hand back, and brings it to Clarke’s cheek with a satisfying smack before Clarke can answer and her lover cries out in pleasure and pain. Lexa immediately soothes the sting with a gentle rub of her palm.

Lexa’s hand comes again and again, marking Clarke’s ass, turning the cheeks red with her palm. To Clarke’s credit, after the initial shock of the first spank, she keeps resolutely quiet for each subsequent strike. Lexa grits her teeth, frustrated at the Ambassador’s stubbornness.

Clarke shudders as another strike lands and tries to maintain her silence, knowing that her lack of reaction will only spur her Commander on further. She is successful in her task until a particularly sharp blow from Lexa pushes her oversensitive pussy against the table, giving a little bit of friction. Then she can’t hold back the moaned “Lexaaa…”, that escapes her lips.

Lexa halts, palm mid-strike, when she hears Clarke’s resolve break with a glorious moan of Lexa’s name. Still, Lexa is far from through with her punishment and so she lifts the hand that was about to spank Clarke again and instead grabs roughly at Clarke’s golden hair. “That’s ‘Heda’ to you, Ambassador. Don’t let me hear you slip up again. Now get up,” Lexa orders. Her voice is a low, commanding rumble.

Clarke grinds her teeth as she stands up straight, or rather as she is tugged up by her hair. The sting of Lexa’s fist in her curls just on the delicious side of pain. She’s barely upright when Lexa’s other hand grabs roughly at her side, coaxes Clarke to turn and face her. Clarke can’t help but gasp at the site of Lexa’s face. She looks half feral, eyes alight with warning and with promise that there’s plenty more punishment to come.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Ambassador? Is that why you tease me like this?” Lexa spits out the questions and then waits, eyebrow raised.

Clarke can barely find her voice, “Yes, Heda, it is,” she admits.

Lexa growls at Clarke’s response. In an instant, she has her hands firmly on Clarke’s ass, is lifting Clarke up, up and onto the table. “Lie back,” she instructs. Lexa nearly roars when Clarke doesn’t comply, when instead she silently glances over her shoulder at the maps and other paraphernalia strewn on the table’s surface. Lexa rolls her eyes, grabs the large map and tugs it to the side until it and everything resting on it land with a clatter all over the throne room floor. “I said. Lie. Back.”

Clarke almost falls onto her back from the power laced in Lexa’s voice. Her skin meets the surface of the table with a thud and she waits, legs dangling off the end, for further instruction.

“Well done,” Lexa coos now, voice softening so quickly it nearly gives Clarke whiplash. “Now move further onto the table, niron.” 

Clarke drags herself up so that she is lying fully on the table save for her feet. Even considering Lexa’s softer tone, she is still surprised when Lexa climbs on the table too and covers Clarke’s body with her own, a bare thigh settling itself in between Clarke’s. Clarke lets out a sigh. The only way it could be more perfect were if Lexa didn’t still have her shirt on. She tugs at the hem.

“You could have taken this off, Lex,” Clarke protests. Then she gulps as Lexa’s tender expression darkens. Wrong move.

“What did I tell you to call me, Clarke?” Lexa asks, grinning at the way Clarke stepped right into the trap she had set. Lexa knows she excels at blowing hot and cold when the mood strikes, something that the Commander uses to her advantage even in unexpected situations.

Clarke tries to respond with Lexa’s title, but the sound strangles into a groan when Lexa suddenly dips her head and bites roughly at the side of Clarke’s neck.

“I didn’t catch that,” Lexa whispers, her hot breath soothing the marks she’d just made with her teeth before they sink into Clarke’s skin once again.

“Heda!” Clarke manages to moan out through the wonderful, torturous feeling of Lexa’s teeth on her sensitive skin.

Lexa replaces her teeth with soothing lips. She rewards Clarke for finally showing that she can remember directions by pressing her thigh insistently into Clarke’s center. Lexa’s eyes flutter at the feeling of Clarke’s arousal coating her bare skin, but she keeps herself from grunting in satisfaction, intent on keeping her cool and commanding facade intact.

Clarke’s response is instantaneous, her hips rolling wildly into the offered friction. Clarke moans at the much needed contact but it isn’t nearly enough. She waits, hips setting a slow pace, expecting Lexa to reach a hand between their flesh to spread Clarke’s pussy lips and let her thigh make contact with Clarke’s clit. When Lexa does no such thing however, Clarke knows that she is still being punished. She does not dare attempt to use her own hand to spread herself, and so she bites her bottom lip in concentration and sets a furious pace with her hips, hoping that the intense speed will make up for the lack of direct friction to where she most needs it.

Lexa smirks at Clarke’s furious bucking, knowing exactly what Clarke is after, but unwilling to let her have it just yet. Lexa does push her thigh slightly harder against Clarke, but that is all she gives. She does not move, does not spread Clarke’s ample pussy lips like she knows Clarke wants her to. Lexa cannot help, however, leaning in to catch a bouncing breast in her mouth, biting and sucking the taut nipple she finds there. From her position on Clarke’s chest, Lexa hears Clarke’s breath catch and she knows how close Clarke is to coming. So Lexa releases Clarke’s nipple with a pop, and pulls her thigh away from Clarke’s wet, hot center. Clarke lets out an anguished whine at the loss of contact, hands in her own hair in frustration.

Lexa waits a while, perched atop her lover, giving Clarke the chance to wind down even if Clarke didn’t actually want to. Then, Lexa presses her thigh back to Clarke’s pussy again and starts working Clarke back to the edge, moving her body this time.

“You’re mean,” Clarke hisses and her hands leave her hair to rake down Lexa’s infuriatingly covered back, nails scratching at the fabric of her shirt. She tries to find her pace again, the rolls of her hips clumsy from frustration, until at last they settle into a good, fast rhythm. It doesn’t take Clarke long to work back to where she had been before Lexa had taken the friction away, and Clarke’s breath starts to grow ragged. Just when she thinks Lexa is going to relent, is going to let her tumble over the edge, the warm thigh disappears a second time, promptly followed by the rest of Lexa’s body as Lexa hops back down onto the floor. Clarke growls in frustration that is bordering on agony.

Lexa laughs at Clarke’s frustration. “No, not yet Ambassador. You know, all this physical activity is quite taxing. I need a drink, something to quench my thirst,” Lexa purrs, looking down at Clarke on the table.

Clarke’s eyes go wide at the words. She hopes it means what she thinks it means, she hopes Lexa isn’t toying with her and is going to leave her on the table hot and wet and aching. She watches as Lexa reaches out with her hand, and then two fingers are on Clarke’s pussy lips, pushing them apart so that Lexa can preview what she intends to drink. Lexa’s fingers slide upward, with the sole intent of gathering up as much of Clarke’s arousal as they can. Clarke sighs at the touch and then, when Lexa’s fingers brush over her clit, Clarke’s whole world falls apart as the orgasm she has been denied for so long tears through her unexpectedly.

Lexa looks on in a mixture of amazement and annoyance as Clarke thrashes about on the table, Lexa’s name erupting from her lips in a piercing scream. She looks nothing short of stunning; a trembling, convulsing mess atop the table. Still, Lexa hadn’t nearly finished with Clarke and whilst she could quite happily watch mesmerised as Clarke rides out the waves of her climax, Lexa is still desperate to taste Clarke. More desperate in fact, now that her fingers have touched Clarke’s center and come away soaked with Clarke’s arousal.

With Clarke still shuddering through her climax, totally unaware of anything but the pleasure coursing through her body, Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke’s legs and pulls her toward the end of the table. Once Clarke is in reach, Lexa kneels, one hand on Clarke’s belly to keep her pinned to the table, and buries her face between Clarke’s thighs. Lexa’s long delicate fingers spread Clarke wide, revealing her glistening pussy and shy, hooded clit. 

Lexa flattens her tongue and gives a firm lick from the bottom to the top of Clarke’s slit, latching her pouty lips around that timid clit as soon as her tongue makes contact with it. It is only then that Clarke seems to register what Lexa is doing, where she is, and she lets out a beautiful, wrenching moan as Lexa assaults her clit, sensitive from her orgasm, with lips and tongue. Lexa cannot believe that Clarke orgasmed before she could drink her fill. Lexa will just have to take what she wants regardless, coaxing Clarke gently through the over-sensitivity.

Lexa lifts her head away from Clarke just briefly and glances up into heavy-lidded blue eyes. “Knock on the table twice if it’s too much, Clarke,” she instructs, unsure if Clarke is lucid enough to use her verbal safeword. 

She grins when Clarke responds to Lexa giving her an out by fisting both hands in Lexa’s hair and pushing Lexa’s face back onto her pussy. Lexa laps at Clarke a few more times, humming at the wonderful taste, and then she buries her tongue inside Clarke’s entrance, drinking deeply right from the source. Under her palm, she can feel Clarke’s tummy quiver as her lover battles through her sensitivity. Lexa sets about fucking Clarke with her tongue, thrusting the muscle in and out, knowing that the sensation will be pleasant but not maddening for Clarke’s already half spent body. 

When Clarke starts rocking her hips up in time to Lexa’s tongue, Lexa knows that any lingering discomfort has passed and she withdraws her tongue and immediately captures Clarke’s ample inner lips in her mouth, sucking as much as she can onto her tongue, tugging and toying at the sensitive dark pink flesh. She barely registers the string of curses Clarke lets out in response, so wrapped up is Lexa in her task, in enjoying all Clarke has to offer. Her tongue dives in between delicious folds and Lexa repeats the sucking action, this time directly on Clarke’s clit. Her plump lips wrap around the shy little bud, coaxing it out of it’s hood and onto the warm, wet surface of her tongue. Lexa is relentless, sucking and flicking at Clarke’s clit until Clarke’s legs are kicking out wildly into the air, toes curling, an endless stream of loud moans and louder profanities escaping Clarke’s mouth. 

Clarke can feel a second orgasm approaching as Lexa works on her clit, the feeling of Lexa’s full lips wrapped tight around her simply too good to endure for long without falling apart. Her body is shaking violently, almost totally out of control, her hands alternating between tugging at Lexa’s braids and scrabbling against the table. She comes when Lexa briefly releases her clit with a wet pop, only to suck it back into her mouth even harder, humming as she does so. The vibrations tip Clarke over the precipice and her body shudders in a wonderful, rolling climax. It is more gentle than her first, but no less wonderful. Even so, in between her moans of ecstasy, Clarke finds herself speaking against her better judgement, a ragged plea; “Heda, Heda don’t stop. Keep going, I want more, please,” she chokes out, her hands fisting stubbornly in Lexa’s hair to prevent Lexa from moving away.

Lexa smiles against Clarke when she hears her desperation. She wastes no time in obliging her lover, for Clarke asked so nicely, and knowing that Clarke wants it near unbearable, she does not coax Clarke through her second oragsm as gently. Instead she slides two fingers deep inside Clarke even before Clarke’s climax is done, relishing the way that Clarke’s pussy clamps down greedily on her fingers, pulsing walls drawing them in. Her mouth never leaves Clarke’s clit as she begins to fuck the Ambassador through her orgasm, fingers thrusting all the way out and all the way back in, fast and rough and unforgiving.

Clarke can barely stand the sensations, but she holds out, enraptured by the delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. Her tummy muscles are aching, her skin soaked with sweat and by all rights she should already be spent. But she isn’t. Clarke revels in the feeling of Lexa’s long, skillful fingers thrusting into her, hard and fast, exactly how she likes it. The sounds of fucking fill the throne room, Clarke’s wetness, her moans, Lexa’s hums of pleasure and approval against Clarke’s clit. Clarke tries her best to roll her hips in time against Lexa’s hand, her body clumsy and uncooperative. Still, it doesn’t matter. Lexa is putting more than enough work in for the both of them and so Clarke let’s her head meet the table with a thud and squeezes her eyes shut, concentrating on nothing but the feeling of Lexa’s mouth and fingers.

Lexa’s eyes don’t leave Clarke’s face even as she works between Clarke’s thighs. When she sees Clarke lie back and close her eyes, Lexa gives a frustrated growl against Clark’s pussy and coaxes a third finger inside Clarke to join the others. She doesn’t slow her pace, doesn’t give Clarke the chance to adjust. She just keeps fucking her, dizzy with the obscene noises Clarke’s pussy makes as Lexa’s fingers pumped into her. Clarke’s head is back up off the table in moments, her eyes wide at Lexa’s force. Lexa grunts into Clarke’s pussy when she sees Clarke bite at her bottom lip, and then Clarke is speaking to her, urging her on.

“Right there, right there, don’t stop, Heda, fuck, don’t stop. Harder, harder, please, fuck, shit,” Clarke moans out, voice high and breathy. She’s barely aware of what she’s saying, all she knows is that her whole body feels like it’s been twisted into a tight knot and she needs that knot to snap loose.

Attuned to her lover’s every movement, Lexa can tell that Clarke is ready, desperate even, for another release. She curls her fingers inside Clarke so that now, as she thrusts them in and out, they brush over Clarke’s g-spot each and every time. Clarke’s words of encouragement trail off into unintelligible groans of bliss and as Lexa’s fingers slide out of her, Clarke comes undone. 

Clarke stops moving for just a moment, body rigid, holding her breath. Then she’s shuddering, screaming Lexa’s name over and over, coming like she never has before. Drenching Lexa’s hand and chin with her juices. In an instant, Lexa’s mouth is off her clit, dipping lower to catch all that Clarke has to offer. Clarke squirts into Lexa’s eager mouth, and then Lexa’s tongue is lapping furiously at her, intent on drinking down every last drop of Clarke’s unexpectedly intense release.

Lexa licks greedily at Clarke, finally able to drink her fill and then some. Clarke tastes so delicious, and she can’t bear to take her mouth away. Lexa laps and licks and drinks until Clarke squeezes her thighs tight, clamping Lexa's head in place, unable to form the words to tell Lexa she’s too sensitive and needs Lexa to stop. Lexa understands the silent plea, and moves her mouth away from an over sensitive Clarke even before two sharp raps of Clarke’s knuckles on the table echo through the room. Her lover relaxes her thighs and releases Lexa from the hold and the moment she’s free to, Lexa places a soft kiss atop Clarke's soaking, golden curls. Then with a sigh, Lexa stands, catching Clarke’s eye as she does, both of them impressed by what just happened. Clarke looks nothing short of thoroughly spent.

Clarke stretches her arms out, a silent plea for Lexa to join her on the table. Lexa quickly obliges and crawls atop the table, pulling Clarke into her arms. Clarke is trembling and her breaths escape her lips in short, desperate gasps. Lexa kisses Clarke’s head, holding her tight. “Clarke, are you alright? That was...was amazing,” Lexa breathes into mussed blonde hair.

Clarke inhales deeply as she tries to find her voice. She snuggles closer to Lexa's body, as close as she can get and she's still disappointed that Lexa has her shirt on.  
“It was amazing,” she finally manages to stutter out and then, as her brain power slowly starts to return, Clarke grins into Lexa's neck, “I guess Ambassadors who can follow their Commander’s orders do get rather well rewarded.”

Lexa lets out a snort. “I'm not sure, I feel like the lucky one.” 

Clarke hums in amusement at Lexa's sentiment. “Credit where credit's due, Heda. I did come three times. And that last one was really quite something,” Clarke points out, her voice a tired, hoarse croak “I've never done that with another person before, you know. Only ever on my own.”

Lexa pulls her head back so that Clarke can see the smug grin that lights up her face. Then the smugness quickly fades into unadulterated tenderness and love, “You looked so beautiful, coming apart under my mouth like that. And you taste divine. So if it's alright with you, I hope that isn't the first and last time it happens?”

“Me too,” Clarke agrees and then she huffs, “I guess I'll have to ignore the lesson I just learned and defy you more often. I wonder what else in your wardrobe will fit me?”

Lexa lets out a growl, “Technically none of the clothes in my wardrobe actually fit you. You don't have to keep ruining my clothes to get me to make love to you, you know.”

“I guess. But they all smell like you. I think it's worth the risk of punishment. Definitely worth it, in fact.”

“Clarke,” Lexa says her lover’s name in a warning tone, but she finds she no longer has it in her to keep up the bravado of her Heda persona. She smiles sweetly, “How about instead, you lend me one of your favorite shirts. I'll wear it for a day and then give it back to you?”

Clarke considers Lexa's offer a moment. It really is too sweet to turn down, “Alright. You've got yourself a deal, babe.”

Lexa is satisfied and she pulls Clarke tight against her again, squeezing their bodies together atop the table in the middle of the throne room. They really should start thinking about cleaning up the mess so that they can restart the meeting Lexa had decided to cut short. But then, Lexa is Commander and if she wishes to wait a little longer so that she can enjoy Clarke's company alone then the Kongeda will simply have to wait itself. Decided, Lexa lifts her hand to Clarke's golden curls and gently runs her fingers through the soft locks.

“You know I have to admit,” Lexa speaks into the comfortable silence that had fallen, “My shirt did look wonderful on you.”

“I know,” Clarke replies without missing a beat, “that's why I wore it to the meeting. I knew there'd be consequences.”

Lexa can’t argue with Clarke's logic, so she stays quiet now and concentrates on the wonderful feeling of Clarke's soft curves wrapped tight in her arms. The table is however, getting ever so slightly uncomfortable.

“Clarke, I want our bed,” Lexa announces into the quiet. She feels Clarke’s breath tickle her neck when Clarke laughs.

“What about the meeting?” Clarke asks.

Lexa answers Clarke's concerns with a deep, sloppy kiss. She hears Clarke hum into it and knows Clarke is enjoying her own taste on Lexa's tongue. When they part they are gasping for air.

“I'm Heda,” Lexa states sternly once she's caught her breath, “If I say the meeting can wait until tomorrow, it can do just that.”

Clarke smiles. The thought of going back to bed early, maybe to sleep, maybe not, is far too tempting. “You're starting to neglect your duties Commander,” she teases.

“Not so, niron. A good Commander makes sure that her Ambassadors are clear about their duties. And I'm not sure the Skaikru Ambassador is quite there yet after all. Now get dressed so I can enjoy stripping you again when we get to the bedroom.”

Clarke's response is immediate and perfect, “Sha, Heda.”


End file.
